Vigil
by Apple-chan
Summary: Second part: Hisoka watching Tsuzuki as he sleeps. And thinking lots of things as he does. Hisoka POV.
1. In Secret

**Vigil****  
by Apple**

Disclaimer: YnM is (c) Matsushita Yoko and Hana to Yume.

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**In Secret**

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Well. Here I am again, standing at the foot of his bed, watching him sleep.

Ever since he started living in my apartment, during those times when we don't have missions, I've been doing this every single night. Right after he goes to bed, right after he falls asleep, I sneak into his room, as quietly as possible...and for a couple of minutes, I stand at the foot of his bed, and watch him.

Just like I'm doing now.

Why am I compelled to watch him like this? Why is that, each and every time, I find myself wanting to go to him, wanting to look at him, and savor the sight of him while he drifts off peacefully, unaware of everything that I'm doing?

I started doing this ever since his first night here, when we had that stupid drinking contest that was never finished. I don't know how that whole thing started...all I know is that it ended with him falling over and practically passing out right on top of me.

He hadn't been able to get up anymore, and I had to carry him to his bedroom...and I stayed there, even though I know I shouldn't have. Even though I know he'd probably beat me to death if he ever found out that I was with him all through the night.

But that was how everything began.

Why am I doing this? I don't know. I didn't know the first time, and up to now, I _still_ don't know.

Sometimes, I'm not even aware of this whole thing--you know, the watching. In some nights, it's like my feet just automatically...take me here. To his room, without my knowing.

I think maybe I've been doing this _too_ often, _too_ much that it's become almost like a routine. He falls asleep. I go to his room. I watch him.

And just before he wakes up, I leave. He doesn't even know that I'm doing this. He hasn't found out, because I think I've been pretty discreet about it. I mean, it's not like I can tell him _why_ I'm doing it, because really, I don't even know why.

He'd probably be annoyed with me if he ever found out. He's usually annoyed with me. Most of the time. I'm too eager, he says. Too laid-back. Too cheerful. Too obsessed with sweets, and food, but I don't see why that would be a problem. Food is very important. It's vital to the health, it makes you strong, it lets you work, and plus...it tastes good. Most foods, anyway. Especially desserts. You know, like chocolate, and cake, and ice cream, and cookies, and...

And _really_! Is there anything wrong with being cheerful? I thought the world liked happy people! And when I'm happily eager, and we're together, he always tells me to quit it.

I don't know why he does that. I'm just trying to make him lighten up. He's always frowning. He's always so serious. And hey, if he says it's bad to be too cheerful and eager, well, _I_ say it's bad to frown too much, and it's not healthy to be always serious.

Not that he'll ever listen to me. Really, sometimes I think he's just really too used to being a...meanie.

The bed's creaking. He's shifting to his side now. Earlier, he was on his back, with his head lolled to the side. Now, he's lying on his right side, with his fingers folded together primly, but not stiffly. Not _too_ stiffly, rather. Still somewhat stiff, but not...well, you get the point. Just not the usual normal sleeping position you'd see people be in, not that I watch people sleep that often. Just him.

All right, time for me to switch positions as well. I sat down on his bed, on his left side. I was nearer to him now than I was earlier. I hope he wouldn't wake up. I just want to look at him closer.

It's strange. I've been doing this for a long time now, yet somehow, I've never grown tired of it. I don't think I'll _ever_ get tired, to be honest. I like watching him sleep.

There's something different about him when he's asleep. Something...I don't know. Quiet? Maybe, maybe not. I mean, he's usually quiet when he's awake. It'd take a whining or an overly cheerful me to get a word out of him. It's usually accompanied by a hard slap on the head, but I'll take what I can get.

He's got a sweet, beautiful voice. He doesn't use it often, but when he does, I don't know...it amazes me. His voice is...well, formal and cold are the only two words that can describe it, really. Formal, because he was taught that way, and cold because...well, because he's _cold_.

It's probably weird, but to me, even in a fit of anger, his voice sounds soothing. It's like..._music_, yeah. It's the kind of music that I can listen to over and over again and never get tired of...

Ehh, what am I saying? See, now I'm saying strange things.

I always say strange things, he says, but this is far stranger than usual. But then again, I'm in his room; I shouldn't be surprised. I only get these kinds of thoughts when I'm here...with him. And watching him.

I feel different when I'm here with him. I don't know what it is. Must be something in this room that's doing this. Or something that he's got.

I wonder what he's dreaming about right now.

...Cake? Nahh, that would be _me_. He wouldn't dream about cake. He doesn't even like sweets.

Maybe he's dreaming about me. Yeah, that's it. He's dreaming about feeding me cake...

Ehh, I think that was my stomach I heard growling just now. Darn...now I'm getting hungry. Stupid, stupid me. Should never have brought the subject of cake up. Maybe I'll get some later in the morning. I don't want to leave just yet.

Darn. I wish he could be like this when he's awake. So peaceful, and so pretty. No, he's not just pretty, he's..._beautiful_. I don't think "beautiful" even covers it, really. There's something about him that really...draws me in. I don't know. I just know that I can look at him all day long and never get tired of his face...

It's not just his face, though...even if it's the most enthralling face I've ever set eyes upon. Even if he's got those entrancing green eyes which are...well, kind of closed right now. And even if he's got that smooth, pale skin, and fair cheeks that I can't stop touching right now, and those perfect eyebrows...and his hair--those light-colored strands that fell gracefully over his face, and that were spread across the pillows...

I heard a soft, irritated-sounding sigh.

Eeep!

...Oh. I didn't wake him up, good. He tends to go into a bad fit when he's woken up in the middle of his sleep. Thank goodness. I thought I was a dead man for sure...

He has a tendency to mutter in his sleep, I've noticed that. It's actually kind of cute. Like right now, I can hear him whispering something about a fly that wouldn't stop crawling all over his face and disturbing his sleep...

He couldn't be talking about my hand, could he? Damn.

It's not like I could help it. I like touching him. I like it a lot...

Darn, he's _pretty_. Beautiful. Really beautiful.

He's got the kind of beauty that you can actually feel, if there is such a thing. It's something that sort of...emanates from his whole being. Like an aura.

He's got a beautiful aura...the kind that would just draw you in closer and closer until you can't make yourself go away, because you can't get enough of it. He's like that. It's not obvious on the first impression, but once you get to know him a little, you'll find yourself wanting to know more. And once you know more, you'll find yourself wanting to get even closer...and _closer_...

_SLAP!_

Ouch.

...That _hurt_! I drew back slightly, rubbing my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flex his left hand--the one he had just slapped me with.

Damn, that stings. He's got a really _really_ hard slap. I should have realized that a long time ago. I think half the bruises on my body were caused by him. He always seems to get infuriated with me, and I don't even know why. He always loses patience with me. He's always irritated. I think I get a slap from him every single day, and it's not fair. I always tell him that, but he just ignores me. He's being far far too cruel to me, and I don't even know why.

Really, sometimes I think he enjoys being mean and cruel to me, you know? I mean, he just slapped me in his sleep, for crying out loud! How many people in the world can do that? Just because I happened to get sidetracked and accidentally got my face _too_ close to his, that's not enough reason to slap me, is it? It's not even my fault. I couldn't help it! He didn't have to slap me.

I glanced at his sleeping face, and pouted. Even in his sleep, he was a meanie.

"...Not a meanie..." He murmured as he lay flat on his back again.

Ahh, damn. Now I'm smiling. My cheek is all red and sore, and still, I'm _smiling_.

I can't help it. Anyone would smile, if they can see how incredibly cute he looked right now.

And here, once again, I found myself shifting closer...closer and closer to him. This is all so strange to me, you know, because even though I feel weird, even though my cheek still slightly hurts from his slap, I'm...I'm _happy_.

Every single time I'm with him feels like the happiest and the most natural thing in the world. When I'm beside him, close to him, just like I am now, I don't know. Somehow, it feels so...right. Like I belonged here, with him. Like I was always meant to be here.

Maybe that's the reason why I do this...why I go to him each and every night, and stay beside him, watching him as he sleeps. Because I was meant to be here...with _him_.

Well...

I don't get it.

Suddenly, I heard a soft, chuckling noise. I gazed down at him...and pouted again. He was laughing at me in his sleep. See, there's that little tiny wrinkle at the corner of his lips, and it's obvious to me that he's trying to hide a smile. "Idiot."

Wait...did he just call me an idiot?

He can even call me that when he's asleep. He's so mean.

Well at least I got him to smile even just a little bit, though I have no idea how I did that.

Damn it, he's still smiling. I don't think I can even look away from him now. I don't think I want to. I'm hooked.

You know, he's the kind of person who rarely ever smiles, but when he does, it's kind of amazing. Everything around him just lights up...and he glows. He really does. It's...I don't know how to describe it. But you'll have to be a pretty special person if he shows his smile to you. He's not terribly generous in letting people see it. In fact, for the length of time that we've known each other, I think I've only seen it a few times...

He _does_ smile a lot when he sleeps, though. He smiles more often in his sleep than when he's awake, actually...and I understand why. Sleep is the only time when he's able to let his guard down. He's extremely mistrustful of people, and really, it's understandable, all things considering.

Still, that doesn't stop from wishing he'd smile more often...if only for me.

Ahh, I can stay here forever...

_Yawn._ Okay, on second thought, maybe not. I should sleep soon--in my own room, not here. He'd kill me if he ever found me here.

Or maybe not kill me...but I wouldn't want to be thwacked on the head again. Or slapped again. He's got quite an iron hand...

Hmm...maybe a couple of more minutes wouldn't hurt...

_Yawn_. You know, he doesn't like it when I stare at him too often. He says it makes him feel self-conscious, but still, I do it--if only to elicit the blush that colored his cheeks in the most fascinating way. He's the only one I know who's got the strongest blush reflex in the world...though I guess it makes sense. I don't think he could get a tan even if he wanted one, and he's much too pale. The blush serves as a nice complement to his face. It makes him seem more...vibrant, and alive.

_...There!_ See? Even in his sleep, he can still blush. It's so cute.

_Yawn._ I really should sleep now. Yeah, I think I will.

One last thing before I go, though.

This is the only time I'll get to do this. When he's awake...well, I'll never work up the nerve to do it. Besides, he'd probably get to me faster than I could say "cookie" before I even get the chance to do it. So I need to do this right now.

Yeah, I do this every single night, too. Right before I go to bed. Right before I leave him.

I ruffled his hair gently…and then I leaned down and brushed my lips softly against his forehead.

...And then I closed my eyes and stayed there, my lips touching his skin.

Every single time I do this, it takes considerable effort for me to pull away. It becomes even harder for me to convince myself to get up and walk away. If I could only stay with him like this for the rest of my life...I would.

Leaving him is always the hardest part, mainly because I really didn't want to. I can never do this again. Well, not until the next time he's asleep, anyway. Still, I wish I didn't have to leave...

All right, _all right_. Time to get up. Up, up, _up_ we go. I pressed one final kiss to his forehead before I reluctantly rose from my position and turned to leave.

"...Tsuzuki."

_Eeep_

I've been caught red-handed. Damn. Now I've gone and done it.

I turned my head to gaze at him with a nervous smile. "Ehehehe...Hisoka, I was just leaving..."

Sleepy green eyes looked up at me and blinked. "Leaving?"

I think he's still half-asleep. "Yeah. Uh...I'll see you in the morning! Good night!" I made a move to turn on my heel, but a hand caught my wrist.

"Where are you going?" Sleeping Beauty...er, _Hisoka_ raised an eyebrow at me.

"Uhm...back to my room?" I answered hesitantly as my feet..._steered_ me back towards the bed.

His eyebrow raised a notch higher. "Why?"

I scratched my head. "Because it's late," I concluded, observing him thoughtfully. He looks like he's still half-asleep. Maybe he's just dreaming.

SLAP! Ouch. He slapped me again. "Idiot. I'm awake," he said dryly.

I rubbed my cheek and gave him a wounded look. "That hurt," I sniffed. See? He's a lot meaner when he's awake. _Meanie_.

He rolled his eyes. "Will you stop calling me a meanie in your thoughts?"

I blinked. "You heard my thoughts?"

He sighed. "Tsuzuki. _Empath_, remember?" He pointed to himself. Oh yeah.

_Oh yeah..._

"Right. I forgot," I smiled sheepishly. How could I forget?

"How can you _forget!_"

I shrugged. "I don't know." I really don't. I never usually remember anything important when I'm with him. Well...except for _him_, of course...

I heard him sigh. "Whatever. I should go back to sleep." He turned away from me. I think he was blushing again.

"Hisoka..." I inched closer to him. "Can I...stay here with you?" _Can I stay with you and watch you sleep for a while longer...?_

"Un. Sure." He turned back and gave me an amused look. "It's nice of you to ask permission for a change."

"Permission?" I blinked. Permission? What's he talking ab--oh.

_Oh._

"Can I ask one thing? Keep your thoughts to a minimum. They disturb my sleep."

Wait a minute...my _thoughts?_ "You mean to tell me you've known all along that I was watching you?"

An eye-roll. "Yes," he answered dryly.

_...Damn._ There goes my secret nightly vigils. Damn it.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the first night."

"Damn. I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

A smile. "Nope. Not usually."

I sniffled. "It's not fair." _I wanted to watch you in secret, and now, it turns out I can't..._

"Tsuzuki..." I felt one of his hands caress my cheek. "I don't mind."

"You know, Hisoka, I..." I swallowed. It's not easy to say something like this. I'm not even that good at it. Really, I was contented to watch him in his sleep. To see him at that distance when sleep is standing in between us, _that_ was good enough for me.

And it's not like I can tell him anything. I wasn't very good with words...

"You don't need to tell me anything," his whispered voice reached my ears then. "I _know_."

I should have guessed.

And I did something then that I never thought I'd get the courage to do, not in a million years. I wasn't even afraid of getting slapped. Well, I was, but I didn't care at the moment. How about that?

As it turned out, I never got slapped. Instead, at the instant that I touched my lips to his, he had wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back, telling me without words all that I wanted to hear all along.

I guess maybe...Hisoka and I, we don't really need words between us. We don't need words to know.

...But I'm just guessing, of course.

-

Even now, I still visit him every night, after he falls asleep. I still don't understand why I'm compelled to do it.

But when I think about it...maybe it wasn't meant to be understood.

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-END-

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_A/N_: Well, there you have it, folks. My first attempt at a Tsuzuki/Hisoka fic. I hope it wasn't too bad. Second chapter coming up soon, and it will be in Hisoka's POV this time.--smile--


	2. In Sadness

**Vigil  
****by Apple-chan**

Summary for part 2: Hisoka watching Tsuzuki as he sleeps. Tsuzuki/Hisoka with a bit (or a lot?) of angst.

Disclaimer: YnM is (c) Matsushita Yoko and Hana to Yume.

Just like the first part, this one is dedicated to **da-mouse**, a long overdue second installment birthday gift of sorts.

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**In Sadness **

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Another day without a mission.

Tsuzuki and I, we rarely get to have these days. You know, that kind where you can just…well, as he puts it: relax, get some food, relax, have dessert, relax, lie down and watch the eternal bloom of the cherry blossoms here in Meifu, and savor the breeze as it scatters petal after petal of the blossoms all around you. And then…relax some more. Marvel in the paradise all around you. Be thankful for it. Be happy.

Be cheerful. Smile.

_Everything will be fine._

He always tells me that, but...I never listen. I hear him, but I don't listen.

Not that I can't. More like I choose not to, for many reasons.

_It's not that easy._

I don't know how he does it.

Sometimes I find myself wondering, like I do now, why I'm still with him. Why I chose to stay, in spite of everything.

And why I'm here now. Here, sitting underneath this tree, with his head on my lap. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing peacefully.

He's asleep—and I'm watching him. For some reason, I am, even though I've never done it before. It's always been the other way around, when we're together. I sleep. He watches me as I sleep. He doesn't think I know, but I do.

I never told him, though. At least, I never thought I ever would…until that night.

A lot of things can change in the passing of a moment…much more so than in the passing of a lifetime. And that night, something changed.

I know it was my doing. I knew I could have kept myself still, and allowed him to continue on with his routine of watching me sleep, of keeping vigil over me in the few hours of my rest. But I didn't. I chose to confront him about it, to tell him I knew…and in the process, I broke through the wall.

He's different now, when it comes to me. He doesn't need to hide anymore, because I knew, and he knew _I_ knew.

That made all the difference, and that was what mattered to him.

I ran my fingers through his hair, trailing it softly, gently down his cheeks. It's what he often does, whenever I sleep. Nowadays, he even does it when I'm awake.

I can't say I don't like it, because I do. Then again, I can't say I _do_ like it either, because…that wouldn't be _me_. Kurosaki Hisoka doesn't like being touched by anyone.

And I still don't…but he's an exception. He's _always_ an exception.

I don't like touching people either. Touching, for me, is a channel of feelings, of thoughts. With me, those two go hand-in-hand. And with me, it's never a good thing.

If life is full of suffering, of pain…death is even more so. I deal with both.

A lot of the times, I don't even recognize where other people's emotions begin and where mine end. A lot of the times, they connect. They join.

For an empath, that's never a good thing. Whatever emotion, it's never good. Not even happiness.

I can't feel my own happiness, because all throughout my life, I've never known it. So even if I do feel something, chances are, it's someone else's and not mine. _Never_ mine.

Touching, for me, is never a good thing.

Except maybe if it was him. Like I said, he _is_ an exception.

In many, many ways that I can never hope to count, he and I are different, yet in some ways, we're alike. He never mentions it, but I know he has gone through as much as I have. He has suffered as much as I have…or perhaps even more. And he's still suffering, even in death, same as I am.

Maybe that's the only thing in common we have. Then again, maybe that means everything. Maybe _that_ explains everything.

Maybe that's the reason why I'm still here, with him.

As the wind blows, he shifts in my lap, so that now his face was turned towards me, and I can see it clearly. He has that soft, serene smile on his face—the kind that was pure, and innocent. The sort of smile I've seen on little children's faces, little children who had only known how it was to be happy, and never had any problems. The kind of smile that radiated joy, happiness—only that.

I look at him now, and I want to do the same. I want to smile the way he does, be happy the way he could be, in spite of everything—but I can't.

He's been through much, much worse things than I have, I know. On the occasional times that he lets the memories of his past go, I feel them…and they hurt.

And I can't understand it. How can he smile? How can he make himself happy, truly happy—in spite of everything that he has gone through?

Is this what happens when you have gone through so much pain? When it hurts so badly that it becomes unendurable…can you even be happy after that?

_I don't understand._

The wind blows again, and now the soft breeze brings with it a shower of bright pink cherry blossom petals, all around us.

I knew there were some petals in my hair, but I allowed my head to remain resting at the bark of the tree. I was in no mood to get up. I wasn't in a hurry…and Tsuzuki was still asleep.

It's late in the afternoon, but we can stay here for a while longer.

The passing of the time here in Meifu is never noticeable, as it was, and will always be, eternally springtime. Mornings, afternoons and evenings were not much different from each other. And the weather—it was irrelevant here. Because after all, we were dead.

I let out a long, and somewhat tired, sigh. Yes, I _was_ dead. Though I can't say I'm happy with it, this was something I had chosen. It was better than _my_ life, at least.

In my life, I didn't have anyone. Of course, my parents were around—physically. But they weren't there, not really. My empathy had made sure that I was always alone. Even if my father was there, he never treated me as anything more than…a doll. I wasn't his son; I was just a doll with feelings, and who happened to be able to _sense_ feelings. A doll in his possession. A doll he had helped create.

My mother…my _mother_, who used to love me, well—she _was_ there. But she didn't see me. She didn't see the son she used to love. She didn't see the child she used to adore to the ends of the earth. She didn't see me as the angel that used to light up her life the way she did mine. I was just…a cursed child. A monster that happened to have feelings. I was the child who never should have been born—the child she regretted giving birth to.

Three years after I was cursed, I died…and I always used to wonder if they had grieved. If they had mourned over the loss of a child they had so repulsed, but was still their child nevertheless.

I think I wondered because…at the back of my heart, I always had this wish that someday, somewhere, sometime, they'd accept me again. That despite my empathy, my curse, they would love me…especially now that I was dead.

It was wishful thinking, I suppose. That was the only thing I ever wanted, all my life—to be accepted. It never happened when I was alive.

And I didn't think it ever would, not in death, anyway. I was only here, after all, to seek the truth about my death. I chose to be a shinigami to find out what had caused it. And then later on, to kill the one who had cursed me, made me suffer for three years until I died.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should have thanked him for giving me that curse that had eventually ended my life. It wasn't like I had much to live for at that time, anyway. No one wanted me. I was better off dead. There was peace in death, at least.

Perhaps I would have been better off not knowing how died, and who had killed me. If I had chosen to rest in peace instead of being...what I am now, maybe everything would have worked out better. At least, I wouldn't have had to worry about anything. I'd have been… "resting in peace," as they say.

But then again, had I chosen that other path, I…never would have met Tsuzuki. He and I would not have been partners.

Would that have been better? I don't know. I still wonder, even now.

…But when I look at him, I realize…maybe I don't need to know.

Perhaps, in some way, when I had chosen to become a shinigami, I didn't do it merely for the sake of finding out the truth about my death. Perhaps…subconsciously, I was still searching for that one person who would finally accept me at long last, despite the curses that have been afflicted on me. Or _because_ of them.

And I found him.

In most of my life, the only thing I've ever wanted was to be accepted for who I was. It wasn't even about love. All I wanted was for my parents to…at least accept me, as their child—to see me, not as a monster, not as a curse, but as their son.

That never happened. When I was alive, I didn't have anyone.

In death, I never thought anyone would accept me, but they did. They _all_ did—especially him. Tsuzuki.

Here, at least, I had him.

Him.

It's a bit funny, thinking about it like that. When I first became a shinigami, I had only one concern, one goal in mind. I was so certain that the path I was going to take was _that_ path, and that alone: I would live like this to find out how I died. And once I get all the answers that I need, once I'm satisfied, I would move on. Like any other person who has died, I would rest in peace—and that would be the end of it. The end of me. The end of everything.

I had thought that would be the best thing that could ever happen.

I didn't think it would take this long, finding out the truth. Come to think of it, although it _was_ in the back of my mind that I might have been, for lack of a better term—murdered, I…never considered it a possibility. Perhaps because I was afraid…afraid that it might be true.

Of course, I _did_ find out how I died…I found out more than I ever wanted to know. However, I couldn't quit being a shinigami. I _didn't _want to quit, not until I had extracted my revenge on the one who had taken my life from me.

…_That's_ why I'm still here. Or at least, that's what I keep telling them. That's what I say, out loud, to all of them.

"_I can't leave. Not until that being who had caused my death dies. Until that time comes, I'm staying here. I'll continue to be a shinigami."_

It's not a lie when I tell them that. It's the truth, even though not all of it.

And honestly, even _I'm_ not so sure what the whole truth is. I choose to stay because I can't leave, not until my murderer dies. I choose to stay because I _wanted_ to stay. I choose to stay because of them—_all_ of them. I choose to stay because of him. I choose to stay because he needs me, and I need him.

Maybe it's one of those things. Or maybe it's all of them, I don't know.

Which one of those things means the most to me? I can't be certain, but…

Foremost in my mind, one which I always, always think about is: when I'm gone, what would become of _him_?

Or, when _he's_ gone, what would become…of _me_?

Thinking about that makes me sad. _Thinking_ generally makes me sad, but…it's what I do. I think, and I feel.

…And him? He doesn't do a whole lot of thinking. It's not the way he does things, after all—feelings tend to rule him over most of the time. But when he _does_ think…I get them. For some reason, I do. It might be an extension of my empathy, or it might be because I'm so close to him that even his thoughts go through me. Either way…

_Strawberry…short…cake…mmm…_

That particular thought came through me in passing, like a soft breeze. And when it did, I couldn't help but smile.

Dreaming about food—sweets, in particular—was something he did very often. Quite amusing. Sometimes, also quite irritating, but…he wouldn't be Tsuzuki without them. On quiet, peaceful days like this, two different types of thoughts pour out of him. The first type—those consisted of his thoughts about his past—those dark, sad thoughts that he kept buried deep within him. His sadness, and his pain. And it's hard, when he gets those thoughts…for even as I try to console him, I feel him. I feel his sadness, his pain…and I don't like them.

I'm just glad he never gets those thoughts too much. I think he tries to suppress them for my sake.

The second type usually consisted of _this_—dreams about food, his favorite drinks, his favorite things to do, all the good things that he has experienced. These kinds of thoughts make him happy, and when he's happy—I tend to feel happy, too.

"…Hisoka, let's stay at this hotel longer, their chocolate cake is gooood…" He was talking in his sleep now.

"_When I'm with you, I'm happy. No, more than happy. When I'm with you, I feel positively…"_

If I closed my eyes right now and concentrated long and hard enough, I would probably be able to picture clearly in my mind what exactly he was dreaming about.

"…_Euphoric. Yeah, that's the word."_

When he was smiling, he was happy. And I see him happy often enough. Whenever he was with our colleagues—that is, our fellow shinigami, and our friends…he was happy.

"_You're different, though. When I'm with you, I'm…different."_

It wasn't just because of that one night, I think. Things _had_ changed between us because of that night, yes. But I had long ago noticed that things _were_ already different—particularly when it comes to me, to him, to us, and the way we treated each other. The way we regarded each other. The way we felt when we were together. The way _he_ felt when he was with me, and the way _I_ felt when I was with him, and when it's just him and me.

That night just made everything all the more clear to us. It brought everything out into the open, as they should be. He didn't need to hide anymore…and I didn't need to hide anymore, either.

Isn't it weird that when everything starts to become clearer, at the same time, they become more confusing? Now, I have more questions in my mind—more than I ever did before.

_Sometimes, you don't need to know._

Perhaps I should stop trying to put everything in terms of logic. Maybe…maybe this is just one of those things that surpass that.

_Sometimes, you don't need to understand._

…Something that surpasses logic. Is there even such a thing?

A small chuckle broke through my train of thoughts. "…Hisoka, stop frowning…"

Frowning? Was I frowning?

I know Tsuzuki couldn't read thoughts, and as I looked at him now…I realized…

He was awake.

Tsuzuki was _awake_.

How could I have _not_ noticed? Me, the empath, sensitive to emotions, to slight changes in movement…and most especially to people waking up. Especially people who _happened_ to have their _heads_ on _my_ lap…

How could I have _not_ noticed that he was awake?

"Don't look at me like that," Tsuzuki gazed up at me with that pleading, slightly wounded look in his eyes, "…I've only been awake for two minutes…"

And he'd been awake for _two_ whole minutes! What had I been doing in that span of time?

A soft sigh. "Hisoka, you really need to stop thinking too much…"

_Thinking?_ I stared at him, long and hard.

_Is that what I've been doing all this time?_

"How the HELL did you know _that_?" I gave him a swift glare. He winced, but he soon recovered long enough to raise himself into a sitting position and gaze at me eye level. I knew why he was doing that, of course. He didn't want me glaring down at him.

The glare was instantly wiped away from my face as he inched closer, and tapped my forehead with his finger. "You were frowning off into space," he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it probably was.

I slapped his hand away from my face and tried to look away. "Dammit."

But as much as I tried to, he held my chin gently and forced me to meet his gaze. "Those must have been some very intense thoughts, if they got you so worked up…" Then, he brought his other hand to my face…and I…

I _so_ hate it when this happens.

You know…_this_.

I really, really, _really_ do.

…I mean, technically, I was supposed to be _dead_, but…every single time his fingers even so much as graze my face in the way that he does…_this_ always happens. And even though I shouldn't be, I'm always afraid that one of these days I might just die of blood loss.

Ironically enough...weren't touches supposed to _heal_, and not _kill_? Maybe it's different if you're already dead, particularly if you're a shinigami. And, most especially if you were me…

But I'm not saying I don't like it, though, because in truth…I do.

Not that I'll ever say it out loud, of course.

I shook my head in an effort to make the redness on my face subside, but to no avail. He was still touching my face, his fingers caressing my cheeks. My back was still resting against the tree, and so was my head. I did not turn anywhere else, because I couldn't.

Needless to say, I was trapped. "It was nothing. I was just…" Distracting. His face was just inches from mine, and it was very, very distracting…

"You need to smile more," he murmured, tracing the frown lines on my face. I didn't even know I had frown lines. But then again, I was often frowning, so I suppose it makes sense…

"I don't really feel like smiling," I muttered.

"Why not?" He was pouting. Yes, he was definitely pouting.

I shrugged. "Because."

He continued to pout. "Hisokaaaa…" No, wait—now he was whining. "Pleeaaase?" And now he was looking at me like a pleading puppy.

I sighed. No one could ever resist him when he's like that—least of all, me. "I can't just smile when you tell me to."

He was silent for a moment…thinking, I presume. And I could probably guess what he was thinking…

"—If I get you some cake, will you smile for me?" As I thought. Tsuzuki could be quite predictable at times.

…_Predictable, but not unsuccessful. _

"You know I don't like cake." I tried to hide the smile that had found its way to my face…but I couldn't. "_You're_ the who wants it."

A sheepish grin. "That's true." He admitted.

I rolled my eyes. "Hn."

"…But at least I got you to smile." He slapped my cheek playfully, grinning in triumph over his latest victory.

"No you didn't!" I snapped, fighting off the blush that was threatening to stain my cheeks yet again. Just as it was starting to subside, the stupid thing. Stupid, _stupid_ blush reflex.

"Yes I did," he sang back out to me.

I gave him a dark, deadly glare. "If you don't stop this, you're gonna get hurt, I swear."

Stupid puppy remained unfazed as he met my glare squarely. "I don't care," he said cheerfully, tapping his finger yet again on my forehead. "I'm not scared. You can hurt me all you want!"

I sighed. He was exasperating. "Tsuzuki…" I shook my head. "You are insufferable." _Exasperating, insufferable, annoying, and yet…strangely enough…_

_You love me anyway. _

…That was a thought, sent straight to me. How he had managed to will that on his own, I'll never know. But he was looking at me like a hopeful puppy.

_Right? Right? You love me, right?_

Another thought, sent straight to me. I could practically see his tail wagging.

…And I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed and laughed until tears came to my eyes.

_Yup. No doubt about it._

-

He couldn't hear my thoughts; I know that perfectly well. At that time, he had asked me a question, and a question had to have an answer. It _needed_ an answer—a spoken, verbal one, because that was the only way around it. Because unlike me, he wasn't an empath.

…But he never asked for it. After hearing me laugh, for some reason, he never did.

_Him and I, we don't really need words between us._

Sometimes I wonder, as I look back on that day…did he ask me that question only to make me laugh?

-

-END-

3553 words

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_Author's Notes_:

The laugh is Hisoka's way of saying "Yes, I love you. So shut up."

Big thanks to everyone's reviews and comments for the Tsuzuki part. A special thanks goes to **Dark-One Shadowphyre** for your concrit, which I have taken note of, rest assured. Hopefully this chapter clears up a bit as to why Hisoka can read Tsuzuki's surface thoughts. I'm still not saying it's accurate, but I believe it's a logical depiction, so I won't be changing anything in the previous part, nor in this one. I'm still open to debate regarding Hisoka's abilities, though.:D

Additionally—my apologies for any inconsistency (with canon) that you may have come across in this fic, particularly regarding Hisoka and his knowledge of how he supposedly died before Muraki reminded him and all that.

And yes, this one is a bit longer than the Tsuzuki POV, and that's because when my Hisoka muse starts to think, he doesn't stop.—grins sheepishly—

As always, comments/reactions/concrit/everything else are still very much appreciated.


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